There Is Joy In Mudville . . .

With apologies to Ernest Thayer and his poem of the downtrodden baseball team of the late 1800's, I recently returned from the rainy season in Honduras, and there was much joy in this visit.

A more or less routine visit to check on the progress of my projects there, I had not yet seen the progress of the chapel that I had designed for the Surgery Center.  Only on paper has my vision yet appeared, and much dialogue about how to construct a warped roof plane of metal panels was really my only clue to its progress.  Some context is in order.

Designed to seat about 60+ souls, the chapel's nave is trapezoidal in shape, wide by the entrance, narrow to the apse, with a roof ridge that rises from its lower point above the entrance, to its culminating high point above the apse.  The effect, when entering,  of the false perspective makes the apse appear farther away, and from the altar, the congregation appears enticingly close. So to keep a horizontal and parallel edge along the sides of this trapezoid, geometrically the roof plan must warp.  But I believe the workers perhaps thought my mind was warped (which indeed, it may well be), for why would anyone deliberately design such a roof, in a place where all roofs have a single slope?  Simply, because the design warrants it.

 And the apse, flanked by two niches, is a perfect quarter sphere, designed to be above the altar and enclose the tabernacle, to draw attention visually, but also project acoustically.  The whole is surmounted by this relatively simple roof that appears to float above the stone mass of the walls by virtue of its open light and airy-ness.  The effect, if I say so myself, is interesting . . . on paper.

But to see it take shape in the field  was a moment I will cherish - I was awestruck and giddy.  Made of stone, hand hewn and cut of steel chisels and hammers out of the very slope upon which it is built, the walls and most especially the quarter spherical apse, is simply magnificent.  The niches, designed to hold statuary, is also a gently curved wall that bends the back light around the statues.  But unlike my plan, which had a simple entrance, the workers deviated in a major way.   They constructed an arch, again of hand cut stone, precisely fit, with no mortar, locked in by a massive, precise keystone, the heavy stone walls rising above it to the roof, locking the arch as has been done for thousands of years.  

I did not design so "complicated" an entrance, preferring to keep it simple, and presumably more cost effective.  No, this is of the workers, and represents their obvious pride in their work.  According to Rigo, my local engineer on this and all the projects, this was a labor of love, a calling to work on a church is a high order indeed.  The craftsmanship reflects this.  Even the lone stone cutter appears content in his makeshift. tarp covered work station, chipping away, unlocking ancient layers to just the right age - here and now.

Though still awaiting its wood ceiling and all the glass, the first mass was held there last weekend, a blessing upon this chapel, and certainly to the workers toil and craft to create such a beautiful space.  And emotionally, this singular project holds special personal affinity for me - a special, unique space that will last a long time, and almost everything I had imagined, and more.

There is profound joy in Mudville . . . or shall we say Rockville?